


Derek Goes Apartment-Hunting

by lovelornwolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek is a Failwolf, Failwolf Friday, Gen, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 11:58:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7221478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelornwolf/pseuds/lovelornwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is looking for an apartment. Also, it turns out he has Opinions about Libraries.</p><p>Set between Seasons 2 and 3, except everyone is alive and happy and NOT DEAD.</p><p>I.e., my keyboard slipped and this happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Derek needed to get on the internet. His options: Ask to use Peter's laptop, or commandeer Stiles's, which wasn't really a choice. Five minutes later, Derek was swinging in through Stiles's bedroom window. There was no one there, so he opened the laptop, fired up a browser and went to craigslist.org.

Several minutes later he was still looking for the right Craigslist page. Derek had gotten quite good with Craigslist in New York, but in Beacon Hills it was different. Apparently.

Downstairs, the front door opened and Stiles came in. Derek heard him rummage around in the kitchen, open the fridge, chug a beverage (milk?) and take the stairs at a run. The bedroom door slammed open.

"OH MY GOD," Stiles said. "Can you not—could you just—?" He gasped for breath. "You're gonna give me a goddamn _heart attack_ one day, dude."

"Where's the Craigslist page for Beacon Hills?" Derek asked.

"Dude, that'd be the day," Stiles said, sitting down on the bed.

Derek raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Stiles shrugged. "We don't rate our own page. They shove us in under 'Gold Country.'"

"'Gold Country'?"

"Yeah, I dunno, man." Stiles picked a rubber ball off the nightstand and started bouncing it off the wall.

A minute passed while Derek paged through the paltry results for the Gold Country Craigslist page. Only one out of every twenty results was even anywhere near Beacon Hills. He sighed.

"Okay, what about regular classifieds?"

"I think old people still use the print version," Stiles said.

Derek glared.

"But, uh, a young and savvy guy like you, well. I guess you might use the Chronicle website?"

Derek googled 'Beacon Hills Chronicle.' He grimaced. "'beac-hills-chron.com'? Really?"

"Hey, be grateful they're online at all. They only registered the domain three years ago. But the classified section has kinda taken off, so . . . that and the obituaries, for some reason." Stiles stared at him. "What are you even looking for, anyway?"

"Well, everyone complains about the train station," Derek said.

". . . Okay."

"And Isaac has mentioned that he prefers sleeping at Scott's house, because there's an actual bed. And an actual shower."

Stiles's mouth dropped open. "Dude, are you looking for an apartment? Oh my god you have to let me help it'll be AWESOME."

"Thanks, but I prefer my living space to be functional. Livable, if you will. Awesome doesn't come into it."

"Oh come ONNNNNNNNNN."

"No."

"Ugh you are, like, zero fun. I hate you."

"Still no."

Stiles crossed his arms. "Fine. Then I want my computer back."

Derek showed his teeth.

Stiles didn't even have the decency to flinch. "I mean it. If you want free Internet you can visit the library."

Derek had forgotten about the library, partly because thinking about it reminded him of his dad, which hurt too much.

"You're familiar with libraries, right?" Stiles said.

Derek glared.

"Not sure whether to take that as a yes or a no, frankly. Do wolves use libraries?"

"My dad was a librarian," Derek said.

"Oh. Well, then I assume you know where the library is?" Stiles said.

"Of course I do," Derek said, and jumped out the window.


	2. Chapter 2

The library was gone. Derek stood on the sidewalk, frowning at the shopping center that now sprawled on the corner of Hurst and Lincoln. He pulled out his phone and dialed.

Stiles picked up at the second ring. "Who is this?" His voice was suspicious.

"What happened to the library?" Derek said.

"Ugh. Derek. How did you get this number?"

"How could they tear it down? It was a _Carnegie._ "

"I assume you're looking at the Galleria right now."

Derek snarled.

"I'll take that as a yes," Stiles said. "Face north, up Lincoln Avenue. The new library is two blocks that way, on the same side of the street. It's a glass and metal box, you can't miss it."

Two blocks later, he phoned Stiles again.

"This can't be the library," Derek said. "It is _all windows_."

"Yeah, isn't it awesome?"

"Sunlight is _bad for books._ Who designed this nightmare?"

"I dunno. Someone famous. Famous-ish."

"Whoever it was, they were obviously not a librarian."

"Hey, there was a huge public campaign, tons of 'community conversations,' everyone and their dog got to submit their ideas for the new library. This is what Beacon Hills wanted. There's a coffee shop! And a tunnel maze in the kids' section that I may or may not have gotten stuck in. More than once." Stiles's voice took on a confiding tone. "Turns out it wasn't built with teenagers in mind. Terrible design, if you ask me."

Derek had made it into the lobby by this point. The interior was open, bright and airy, and full of noise—people talking, chairs squeaking, book carts rattling, and some horrible automated book sorter clattering behind the circulation desk.

"I can't do this," Derek said.

"Do you need me to come there, maybe hold your hand?"

"Too many people. Too much noise."

"If you can hold it together until you get to the periodicals department, I promise it's much quieter. Second floor in the back."

"Ugh. Fine," Derek said, and hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, I work in a library building very similar to the one in this story. It is both amazing and terrible.


	3. Chapter 3

Two hours later, Derek let himself back in through Stiles's window. 

Stiles actually leaped out of his chair this time.

"Sweet whistling Jesus!" he squawked. "What are you doing back here?"

"I needed somewhere quiet to go over the candidates," Derek said reasonably, arranging himself on Stiles's bed. He spread the printouts from the library in front of him.

"On my  _bed?_ "

"You aren't using it."

Stiles's mouth worked for a few seconds. "Well, at least take off your shoes."

"Can I borrow a highlighter?" Derek said.

"Sure." Stiles held out a yellow marker, then snatched it back. "—wait, no, that one ran out on me last night. Try this one."

Derek looked at the pages in front of him. He had only printed out possibilities that fit all his criteria, which had left him with just four candidates. He uncapped the marker and highlighted the square footage and number of bedrooms and bathrooms in each one. Then he flipped to the map view of each candidate and started calculating the average distance to the homes of each member of the pack.

"Should I start a spreadsheet?" Stiles asked. "Also, are you taking transportation into account? Because some of your kids have cars and some don't."

Derek looked at him.

"What?" Stiles said. "I just think you should weight Scott's distance from your new den higher than Jackson's, because Scott has a dirt bike, not a Porsche."

Derek sighed. "I never was much good at math."

"That's why I should be helping you!" Stiles said. "Let me just fire up Excel."

It took two hours of painstaking data entry and statistical analysis for them to discover that each of the four candidates was just about equally shitty, once all the criteria were weighted and averaged to Stiles's satisfaction.

"I've gotta go," Derek said.

Stiles didn't seem to hear him. "If I change the weight on the square footage . . . no, that's no good. Maybe—"

"Stiles. I'll talk to you later." Derek extricated the printouts from under Stiles's elbow.

Stiles finally looked up. "What? Oh, okay. I'll keep looking at this and let you know where I end up."

He was still muttering to himself when Derek left.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, Derek got a text from Erica.

_stiles found the perfect place. showing today. pick u up in five?_

Derek rolled his eyes and typed,  _NO_.

His phone rang.

"I'm serious," Erica said. "You'll love it. Where are you right now?"

The "perfect place" turned out to be a run-down loft in the warehouse district.

"You're kidding me," Derek said.

Stiles's face fell. "What's wrong with it? And before you say 'It has stairs,' look—there's totally room for you to jump down from the second floor. You won't even know they're there!"

"It's not the stairs," Derek said. "It's the giant hole in the wall."

"Well . . . I thought that was your thing. Broken-down, rubble-filled, dystopian."

Derek lets that pass without comment. "Also, this is the warehouse district. It's at least twice as far from everyone's houses as the best case we were looking at last night. How is this perfect?"

"I like it," Isaac said.

Everyone looked at him in surprise.

He shrugged. "It's better than the foster home, or the trainyard."

Derek sighed. "I'll consider it." He looked around a second time. The wall of windows was nice, and the second floor had potential. If you ignored the spiral staircase, which he was not looking forward to negotiating. He and stairs did not get along.

"Excellent," Erica said. "Now, I've already talked to Lydia about furnishings and decor, and she told me about this great consignment store on Galloway..."

"Oh god," Derek said.


	5. Chapter 5

That night, after a long, painful day of combing second-hand stores for appropriate knickknacks under Lydia's firm guidance, he found himself jumping through Stiles's window again.

Stiles whirled around in his computer chair. "Whoa, what did I do this time?"

"Nothing," Derek said. He sat down on the edge of the bed. Their knees were almost touching.

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "So why are you here?"

He didn't have a reason, actually. This was just where he . . . where he . . . "I need a laptop," he heard himself say.

Stiles put his hands protectively over his keyboard. "No."

"I mean, I need to  _buy_ a laptop."

"Oh. Okay. What kind? I can . . . check Best Buy for you." Did Stiles seem almost . . . disappointed?

Derek frowned at him. "I thought you'd be ecstatic. This way I won't have to bug you for Google help anymore. What's wrong?"

"I don't . . ." Stiles sighed. "I don't actually mind it when you bug me."

"What?"

"I like our repartee," Stiles mumbled, his face tinged with pink.

Derek feels his eyebrows climb into his hairline. "Our—"

"Our back-and-forth. Our banter. Our—anyway." His eyes were fixed on his shoes, and he got pinker and pinker with every word. "I like helping you, okay, we have a good thing going, sue me!"

Derek could hear Stiles's heart pounding. Derek's was pounding, too, but at least Stiles didn't know that.

"What part of our . . ." (Derek would die before he called it 'repartee') ". . . our _interactions_ do you enjoy? From my side, most of it seems to be you telling me to get the hell out."

"Of course I tell you to get the hell out! You always just barge in! I have standards, you know," Stiles said primly.

"So you want what, flowers? Chocolates?"

"You're making fun of me."

"Chocolate it is," Derek said. "See you tomorrow." He was grinning as he vaulted through the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. What was that? Don't ask me, I have no idea.


End file.
